I have always been fascinated by clouds. Clouds appear warm and soft like cotton wool but actually have a cold, ice-like nature only apparent up close, a parallel I can only draw with my Aunt Katherine. Growing up in Mystic Falls, subjected me to many cloudy days and yet here I was sitting on my suitcase, on a clear sunny day, waiting for a car to pull up. A sleek, black Mercedes drove up beside the pavement, triggering a frantic drum inside me. The door opened to reveal a tall, sallow man dressed in black.

The man was in his late thirties and was sporting attire fit for a funeral as if to mock my present situation. "Are you ready, miss?" he said to which I responded with half a nod. He turned to open my door and gestured for me to get in. Hesitantly, I cooperated knowing this was my only chance of a normal life. The rest of the drive was filled with an awkward silence for which I was grateful as it allowed me to prepare myself for what lay ahead.

I looked at the driver in disbelief as the car stopped in front of an enormous Georgian mansion. The idea of meeting my "guardians" became even more daunting. My mother was a brave and an adventurous woman. She had told me once of the time she saw the great "Taj Mahal" in India. At first she was shocked to find it so small but as she got closer, she understood that she was only very far away. I stood at the iron gates, peering at the mansion through the bars and the mansion seemed even larger than from the car. My mother's words vibrated through my spine, "Nothing is ever as it first appears."

As I walked through the gates, I noticed a figure in the distance, a tall young man with a slender, muscular build standing with his arms folded under a weeping willow. I could not see his face but from his posture I could only assume I was under his scrutiny. In discomfort, I walked hurriedly through the open front door of the mansion where I met an intimidatingly large man about fifty years of age whose disapproving stare had me more self-conscious than ever before. "You must be Elena" he said in a manner deprived of any emotion. "Yes. YOU must be my Uncle Mason." I responded jokingly to alleviate the accumulated tension in the foyer. "We must do something about that attitude of yours. It will do you no good." he said. My head immediately dropped as I realised I had already made him hate me. He stroked his beard and mumbled "but first something needs to be done about that hair". My hand found itself instantly in my hair, caressing it as if it had felt insulted as I did. "Someone get her some black hair dye, we can't let Katherine see it!" He exclaimed, and then ordered me "go upstairs, Zach will show you to your room." I followed the old friendly looking man as he led me upstairs. Halfway up the stairs, I looked behind me and saw that my uncle was gone.

Zach showed me the door to my bedroom. "We are so happy to have you here. Don't mind master Mason, he's like that with everyone. I hope the room is to your liking. I'll be downstairs if you need me" he said in the most genuine tone before walking back the way we came and leaving me all alone in the left wing of the house. They must have kept me here on purpose. I was completely isolated from the rest of the house. As soon as I shut the door, I slid onto the carpet and cried silently until I fell asleep.

Hours later, I woke up…on a bed. How did I get here? I looked around and saw my bedroom for the first time. It was bigger than my entire flat back in London and I could tell it was once beautiful. I walked up slowly to the cascading satin curtains with dried tears on my face, pulled them back and walked on to a balcony, my balcony. My arms rested on the railing as I gazed at the reflection of the moon in the lake below.

"I see you like the room" said a voice of velvet from behind me. Surprise turned me around. It was the young man and now, no longer was he in the shadows but right in front of me. I could see much more than the smug expression worn on his face. His eyes, hidden beneath a dark fringe were intensely pure and dangerous. He looked at me with his electrifying blue eyes that seemed capable of capturing my soul and I became trapped in a strange staring contest, one more meaningful than the ones I engaged in on the school playground once upon a time. He chucked a box that I later discovered to be hair dye on the bed and said, "Are you going to just stand there all day? She wants to see you." He paused, waiting for me to move or talk. "Why aren't you moving? Are you deaf? GO!" He snarled. It was at this moment that I decided that I most definitely hated this beautiful young man.

I stormed out of the room, attempting to avoid eye contact with the aggravating young man and anxiously made my way downstairs to see my Aunt Katherine whom I hadn't seen in twelve years. From what I remember, she and my mother were as close as two sisters should be but then they had a fight. It was something to do with my father but I never found out what. I would ask my mother and she would say "It is not something parents should discuss with their children". I had thought that maybe it was something my Aunt would disclose however all hope was lost when I looked upon her stern face. She had one of those faces that were strikingly beautiful yet terrifying all at the same time. She had full lips, the deepest brown eyes and long beautiful auburn hair but the lips did not smile and the eyes seemed only capable of glaring at me coldly.

"I suppose this is where I welcome you into my home" she said in a lifeless tone. "Thank you for letting me live here." I replied in the most sincere voice I could manage. "Yes, well it wasn't my choice, it's what she wanted" she said. I heard a slight crack in her voice as she mentioned my mother. She cared. I think that's what family is all about; loving each other unconditionally. It didn't matter what they fought about because she loved her and right at this moment she hated herself for not reconciling with her. I knew that. I saw it on her face. "When I look at you, I see her… I despise that." She paused. "There isn't anything we can do about that though. However, you can't make excuses for that hair. If you want anything to do with this household, you have to look respectful. What will they think you? What will they think of us?" she shouted. I had decided to dye the ends of my hair blue just after my mother died. Blue was her favourite colour and recently it became mine. "I don't really see how the colour of my hair will affect the way people see you. Not that the way people see you is important anyway." I responded, instantly regretting it. "It is important." She said this surprisingly calmly but my relief was short lived when she subsequently shouted – "Go up to your room, do something with that hair and don't even think about coming down!" she continued, "Someone will send your food up." I left without looking back. I smiled as I realised she reacted that way without even seeing my tattoo.

He was sitting on my bed when I came in. I spoke - "I don't think you should be in here" and mocked my aunt under my breath "what would people think?" He ignored my immaturity and replied "well, I thought I should tell you a few things if you insist on living here."

"First of all, I'm not insist-"

"You must be present at all meal times unless like today, she says otherwise ." he interrupted

"I'll be where I like when I like, thank you very much"

"She won't like that."

"I don't care what she likes."

He smiled.

"Why are you smiling?"

"I prefer you like this."

"Like what?"

"Less weepy and pathetic."

"When did you see me weepy?"

"I heard you cry."

" In case you didn't know, I lost my mother."

" You mean she died"

" That's what I said."

"No you said you lost her."

"It's the same thing"

"No, it's not. You didn't lose her".